


A Christmas Crashdown (Or, Alex Finds A New Home for Christmas)

by brightloveee



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (a lil bit of everything!), Accidental Marriage, Christmas AU, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Noah is not evil, Roswell Secret Santa 2k19, Secret Marriage, everyone is human, the town of Roswell is a sweet and loving place now in this fic ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightloveee/pseuds/brightloveee
Summary: Big city Alex comes to small-town Roswell in search of the guy he married years ago, because he needs a divorce. What he finds is not what he expected at all.
Relationships: Alex Manes/OC, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 39
Kudos: 248





	A Christmas Crashdown (Or, Alex Finds A New Home for Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinkSparkleUnicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkSparkleUnicorn/gifts).



> My Roswell Secret Santa gift for [aliciam72](aliciam72.tumblr.com)!

Alex couldn’t believe he was leaving New York City for the first time in four years on a secret mission to get divorce papers signed, but here he was.

The flight to New Mexico had been absolute hell. He’d booked it last minute, so he’d gotten crammed for five hours between a screaming toddler and a little old lady knitting a scarf for her cat. At least it was non-stop.

It was a miracle there had been a flight available at all. Two weeks out from Christmas and the airport had already been packed. Of course, there wasn’t much other option for Alex that hop on the soonest plane to Albuquerque. He’d seen that look in Hunter’s eye when he mentioned romantic Greek sunsets, and he’d known. He needed to bite the bullet and get this divorce well and truly finalized before Hunter got his own act together and popped the question.

The flight had nothing on the wait at the car rental stand, where apparently they had never heard of the concept of _hustle_. So he was already far behind schedule by the time he got behind the wheel, and he was on the freeway looking at the open road when he actually started to think about what he was going to _say_ once he arrived.

_Hi, I’m that guy you married six years ago on a whim, talked to on the phone three times, and then ghosted ever since. I’ve been mailing you divorce papers since April. Fucking sign them so I can go on my engagement trip._

Alright, Alex had a pretty good script for what he was going to say.

He made good time, pulling up to the shabby diner where he was set to meet the lawyer just twenty minutes behind their meeting time. The town was cute enough, he supposed. All alien-themed and chintzy. Alex wouldn’t pick it over the city, but he wouldn’t need to. He wouldn’t be here long, then he’d be back in Manhattan.

He didn’t need to look hard to find the lawyer, he was the only guy in a suit among a sea of flannels and baseball caps. The man perked up when he entered, shooting up a hand to grab Alex’s attention.

“You must be Alex Manes,” he greeted with a smooth smile. “Good to meet you. I’m Noah Bracken, representing Michael Guerin. Welcome to Roswell.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, returning the smile. Noah motioned for him to take a seat in the both, so Alex slid onto the seat. 

“So, let’s get down to brass tacks,” Noah said as soon as they were settled. “Oh wait, would you like to order? Neptuna Melt? Blast from the Past-rami? Men in Blackened Salmon?”

Alex scoffed at the names as the lawyer listed them off.

“What kind of name is ‘flying sauce’ anyway – oh.”

A man in an apron with a little notebook in hand had appeared at the end of their table, grinning through Alex’s inadvertent insult.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” he asked, as if nothing was wrong.

Noah put an order for a burger and fries.

“Just a coffee,” Alex said. “Do you make any green smoothies or juices?”

“We have orange juice? Or apple juice?” the man offered. Alex read his nametag, Arturo. 

“Just coffee is fine,” Alex said, giving him a smile to make up for his comment before. Arturo smiled back happily and went off to put in their order. “Now,” Alex said, reaching down to pull the manila folder out of his laptop bag. “Let’s get this divorce show on the road.”

Noah looked around the diner before saying lowly, “this is a matter of some delicacy, and this is a very small town. My client’s family isn’t even aware of the situation, so he would appreciate some discretion around this matter.”

Alex shrugged. “No problem. I’ll do you one better. You give me those signed papers and I’ll be right out of your client’s hair.” He thought longingly of his king bed back in his Gramercy apartment with the soft sheets.

“Oh, um,” Noah hummed, shifting in his seat. “My client hasn’t signed the papers yet.”

“He _what_?” Alex bristled.

“Yet. Yet!” Noah put out a calming hand. “He said he’d sign them tomorrow, when he saw you in person.”

“ _Tomorrow_?” Alex asked. Just then, Arturo came back over with Alex’s coffee and a milkshake for Noah. Alex put on a nice smile as he grabbed the mug, before turning back to Noah sharply. “What the fuck is the holdup?” he hissed.

“I – I don’t know,” Noah shrugged. “Michael does what he wants. What can I say, he’s impulsive. He’s a rebel. It’s why you married him… in the… first place?” Noah trailed off at Alex’s raised eyebrow. “We’ll be having a meeting tomorrow morning at eleven. Discreetly. As I said the family doesn’t know and we’d like to keep it that way, then he’ll sign the papers and you can be on your way.”

Alex gave a world-weary sigh. “Fine. Tomorrow. Is there a motel in this town or something?”

\--

Alex waited until he’d put his bags down in the shitty motel room and showered off the disgusting plane ride and desert dust before he called Hunter that night.

“Hey babe,” Hunter greeted when he picked up the phone. “Hey I’m out at PJ’s right now, can you hear me?”

The din of the busy restaurant was pretty deafening on the other line, compared to the silent little room Alex found himself in.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just checking in. I’ll talk to you later.”

“ _What?_ ” Hunter shouted. “Babe, I can’t hear you! We’re headed out to the DL I’ll talk to you later byeee.” The line cut short. Hunter always did this. When he was out, it was like nothing else mattered in the world, not even his soon-to-be fiancé stranded in the sticks.

Alex sighed as he collapsed down on the bed. It didn’t usually matter when Hunter did his thing, because usually, Alex was with him when he did. When Hunter’s world narrowed to clubs and shots and UberLuxes, Alex was there too. Not that Alex always loved getting drunk and going dancing and stumbling home. In fact, most of the time he didn’t really want to go. It would always make his leg hurt a little more than he let on, and Hunter would boo him and say _you’re no fun_ when Alex insisted they go home instead of going for that one last 3 AM drink.

But there was something so incredibly glamorous about those nights too. When they were out, Alex wasn’t that military brat who grew up moving from Air Force base to Air Force base with his dad and his brothers. He wasn’t that misfit gay teenager with weird clothes and an infected nose ring. He wasn’t that scared-as-shit kid about to head out on his first deployment, marrying the first guy who’d take him to a drive-through chapel.

Fuck, the drive-through chapel. He chuckled, shaking the rickety motel bed he was lying on. It honestly made him laugh just to think about it. It would be a _great_ story if it wasn’t also a _secret_ that absolutely no one must know about. Least of all his future husband. 

Fuck. _Husband._ It was weird to think about Hunter as his husband. But. They’d been featured in a gossip magazine’s _Out on the Town_ section in the spring, and Hunter had turned to him and said, “What if we were _both_ Mr. Jameson?” And, well, Alex had been reorienting himself around that ever since.

He’d started sending the divorce papers to that drive-through husband the following week. Which had netted him exactly zero results to date. Thus, he was here, in the middle of nowhere New Mexico, waiting to see that guy for the first time since their “honeymoon,” so that he’d never have to see him again as long as they both shall live.

Fuck. He pulled himself off the bed. He needed a drink. There had to be a bar in this town.

Sure enough, he spotted it by the neon light shining at him from down the street. The flashing lights looked like two horses doing it doggy-style.

The Wild Pony, it read. It was a bar.

Good. He pulled over in the parking lot and locked the rental car behind him.

He could tell it was a seedy bar the minute he walked in. He’d always had a penchant for dive bars, but a Manhattan dive was completely different than a Roswell dive. The place was musty and neon-lit. There were groups of older men with long beards chewing cud in the corner, other groups of guys sipping tall-boys of Coors as they played pool.

It was more crowded than Alex would’ve expected for a small town, but then again what else was there to do in this town but drink? No wonder the entire population was here.

He found a seat at the bar, and a pretty woman with a warm smile came over to take his order. He wasn’t sure how someone so beautiful ended up tending bar in a backwater town like this, but he wasn’t complaining as she passed him a glorious double vodka soda with a, “here honey, you look like you need it.”

He did need it. He cast his eyes around carefully as his sipped. He didn’t want to attract unwanted attention in a place like this. He could protect himself, sure. Easily. But it had been a long time since he’d heard the kind of sharp words he’d grown up with. Those wounds had scabbed over. He didn’t know how it would feel to re-open them.

“ _Guerin!_ ” A voice shouted behind him. Alex startled hard, back stiffening, drink spilling a little down his shirt. “You fucker!” The sharp voice continued. Alex turned to see a burly man had kicked in the door and stood just inside the threshold, clearly fuming.

Alex turned back to put his drink down before it completely toppled out of his hands, catching sight of the bartender watching the situation intensely. “What did you do, Michael?” she said under her breathe, just loud enough for Alex with the bar crowd hushed due to the commotion.

 _Michael._ Alex thought frantically. _Guerin._ That was the guy. His guy. The one he was looking for.

Alex watched the big man in the doorway take another step in. “I know you’re here Guerin!” He yelled.

Everyone was still and silent for a long moment until the saloon doors to the bathroom swung open and another man entered, still buckling his belt. All eyes in the house swiveled as he strutted in, cowboy hat at a jaunty angle, rumpled and unbuttoned, and looked around with an arrogant smirk.

“ _Guerin!_ ” The big man shouted again.

Alex saw him clearly as he came into the middle of the room. It was him.

“Hey Reggie,” Guerin said easily, as if there wasn’t a room full of people watching them. “What’s up?”

“You know what’s up,” Reggie said, red in the face.

Guerin paused. “I don’t know what you mean.” He looked around innocently at the crowd.

“You fucker! YOU FUCKED MY WIFE!” The man roared.

“Oh, were you married?” Pandemonium broke out across the bar, as laughter and shouting erupted. Reggie lunged towards Guerin, who dodged easily. But another man, who had rushed up behind Reggie, threw a punch that hit Guerin square in the jaw.

Guerin, reeling, spun around. He caught Alex’s gaze across the bar. Through the dim light, Alex could see Guerin’s eyes widen comically. Dumbstruck, he stood stock-still, watching Alex watching him.

Alex remembered his face so clearly. It was him. That same crooked nose, that same chin, those same eyes. He was scruffy now. His hair was longer, peeking out in unruly curls under his cowboy hat. His shoulders were broader, his chest filled out. If it weren’t for the bruise blooming across his cheek and the blood trickling from the corner of his lips, Alex would say he looked good.

Guerin was staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost. Previously braced for a fight, he now stood limply. Before Alex could react, Reggie came up behind Guerin, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and sucker-punched him in the gut.

“Fuck you, fucker,” Reggie spat.

“Your wife sure did,” Guerin wheezed. Reggie punched him across the face, knocking him flat to the ground.

“Out!” the bartender came between them, waving a rag in Reggie’s face. “Get out of my bar!” 

Reggie cowered under her fierce scowl and turned to leave. Alex watched Guerin writhe on the floor with a groan before rolling to his side, spitting blood across the grimy wood.

“And you!” the bartender rounded on him once Reggie and his pals filed out grumbling. “I told you no more fights!”

“Jesus, Maria,” Guerin smirked through his swollen face. “ _He_ hit _me_.”

“Sure,” the bartender, Maria, said firmly, but held out her hand to hoist him off the floor.

Guerin nodded, grabbed her hand, and came to his feet.

Alex quickly looked back at his drink before he could meet Guerin’s gaze again.

So, that was his drive-through husband. A no-good deadbeat drunk, getting in fights and sleeping with other people’s wives. 

Soon-to-be ex-husband, he reminded himself.

He was swirling his straw around the glass, listening to the rest of the bar patrons go back to their drinks, trying to ignore the entire situation as Guerin dusted off his hat and stumbled over to the bar.

“Well howdy,” his gruff voice said, as he sidled up next to Alex.

 _Here we go,_ Alex thought, feeling a thrill go up his spine. He didn’t want to have this conversation tonight, but judging by the glint in the man’s eyes and the way he was leaning against the bar, Guerin did.

“Didn’t expect to see you around these parts,” Guerin continued.

“You wouldn’t have to,” Alex replied, turning sharply and meeting Guerin’s eye with a steely gaze of his own. “If you’d read any of the letters or done any of the paperwork.”

Guerin raised his eyebrows and threw up his arms innocently. “Listen, mister. Us country boys don’t read good.”

Alex leveled him with a withering stare.

Guerin smirked, dropping the innocent act. He turned and leaned both elbows heavily on the bar. Without meaning to, Alex’s eyes followed the line of his back, the hem of his grungy denim jacket, to the curve of his ass, before he snapped back to himself.

Guerin held up a hand to Maria, who rolled her eyes but pulled a pint for him anyway, shaking her head all the time.

“So you came all this way,” Guerin said after he took a big gulp of the beer. “Just to ask for my autograph.”

“Would it be so bad?” Alex asked. “Just sign the fucking papers.”

“Why don’t you just act like it never happened?” Guerin asked. “Forget about it? Get a life?”

“I have a life, fuck you. It wouldn’t be right,” Alex said through gritted teeth.

Guerin chuckled, glancing at Alex. He was clearly amused by Alex’s agitation.

“Why don’t you just sign the goddamn papers?” Alex asked.

“Or what?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Alex said. “I need to get this finished.”

“Oh, you got some other sucker lined up?”

When Alex didn’t respond, Michael rounded on him with a smirk.

“Got your claws in another one, huh?” Guerin leered. “You gonna drop him like a fucking hot potato too?”

“Fuck you,” Alex threw back the last of his drink.

“You first, _honey_ ,” Guerin retorted.

Alex pulled out his wallet, slammed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, and made for the door.

“Rich bastard,” he could hear Guerin say to Maria.

“Fucking loser,” he muttered to himself as he pushed the door open and stormed to his car.

This was going to be harder than he expected.

\--

Alex woke up the next morning to slew of work emails, Christmas ads, and a forwarded invite from Hunter about a New Years Eve party in Mykonos. No message, just the invite.

Fuck, that was three weeks away.

He rolled off his bed, glancing at the clock along the way. 7:12AM. Fuck, he sighed as he quickly brushed his teeth. It was 9AM in New York, and he hadn’t logged on.

Luckily, his cybersecurity job could easily be done from the road. He pulled out his laptop and buried himself in the work until his calendar pinged.

“11AM MEETING” the reminder flashed. For a second he almost didn’t remember what the meeting was for. He’d already dialed into a remote team meeting today, he didn’t have any TPM meetings until tomorrow. Was it a Hunter thing? OH.

It was the appointment for his stranger husband to become his stranger ex-husband.

He pulled up the address the lawyer, Noah, had provided.

“Sanders Auto and Junkyard,” the pinned location said. When Alex looked at the street-view images, it looked like it was just a giant empty field with some broken-down cars and a shabby trailer.

They were really serious about keeping this a secret? No one would ever come looking for anyone in that murder-scene of a location.

It was just as bad as he thought it would be when he pulled up promptly at 11.

He was just getting out of his rental car when a BMW parked next to him and the lawyer, Noah, popped his head out.

“Hey there, Mr. Manes,” Noah called as he got out and retrieved a briefcase from the passenger seat.

“Where’s Guerin?” Alex asked.

“Ah, he’s here,” Noah jerked his head towards the dumpy-looking trailer. Alex didn’t see anyone around, but Noah set off towards it with purpose. “Hey Chief!” he called, stepping up to the door and knocking. The entire thing seemed flimsy enough that it shook. “It’s morning! Wakey wakey!”

Alex crossed his arms across his chest when nothing happened. This was bullshit. He still had more fires to put out at work and his own husband was standing him up.

Noah shot him a quick grin, then rapped his knuckles on the metal door again, more frantically.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from within. Alex watched, incredulously, as the rickety trailer rocked with the footsteps as the person within came to the door and shoved it open, and a shirtless, bleary-eyed Guerin stood in its wake.

“Good morning, Big Guy,” Noah said, chipper despite Guerin’s sharp glare. “Say hi to Mr. Manes here, you remember each other.”

Michael’s eyes traveled over to Alex, where they rested on his face with a self-satisfied smirk. “Back for more?”

Alex just gritted his teeth. It wouldn’t help him at all to aggravate the situation, especially without his own legal counsel present.

Noah looked between them for a moment, confused, before he pulled out his briefcase. “Great, now that we’re all here, let’s get this paperwork signed and we can be on our way –”

“Why should I give this rich kid mama’s boy his own way?” Guerin spat.

It was probably the years that had passed since his military training that let Alex slip up enough to flinch. It was all Guerin needed.

“Oh, worried that I’ll go tell mommy and daddy you got hitched? Trying to cover your ass so they don’t cut off your allowance?”

 _It won’t fix anything to fight him,_ Alex reminded himself. He picked a spot just over Guerin’s shoulder, in the depths of his dingy Airstream, and held his chin up high.

“Worried your new boy-toy might leave you?” Guerin continued to taunt. Alex felt his own lips thin into a hard line. “What would your dad say if he knew you married some trailer park trash?”

Alex knew he was taking the bait. He knew. But he still stiffened and his breath hitched.

“Ohh, Daddy not so keen on this, huh? Did you tell him you got hitched to a guy?”

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Alex spat.

“What’s this, now he speaks?”

“At least I haven’t been saying bullshit,” Alex retorted.

“Oh, I’m wounded!” Guerin clapped a hand to his chest and rolled his eyes.

“At least I’m not a coward!” Alex almost shouted. “You’re the one who hides shit from your family!”

“Now now, boys,” Noah held out his hands towards both of them placatingly. Guerin ignored him completely.

“Who are you calling a coward, sending fucking letters in the mail?”

“It’s not as if you’d pick up the phone!” Alex protested.

“It’s not as if you tried!” Guerin shouted back.

“I did try, fuck you!” Alex snapped. “I was in the fucking hospital, I didn’t get that many chances! You never picked up. You never called back.”

Suddenly, Guerin was silent. He took a tiny step back into the airstream, rested his shoulder against the doorframe, just watching Alex with dark eyes.

“I didn’t see why this time would be any different,” Alex continued, voice quieting now.

When Guerin didn’t respond, Alex stepped forward and took the packet of papers from Noah’s hands. He held it out to Guerin himself. “I’ve waited all these months, I came all this way.”

Guerin looked him over, uncrossing his arms and reaching for the thick stack of legal forms. Alex felt the wait of it lift from his fingertips as Guerin took the papers.

Then, abruptly, dropped the entire stack on the ground. It hit with a dull thud, kicking up a puff of dust and dirt.

“You waited this long, you can wait a little longer,” Guerin declared, then turned on the spot and climbed back into the airstream, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Alex and Noah stood in silence for a long moment.

“Well,” Noah chuckled finally as he came forward to gather up the documents. “Now that you two have been re-acquainted, you sure you still want this divorce?”

\--

That was how Alex found himself standing alone in the New Mexico desert, still married.

“C’mon,” Noah patted his arm encouragingly. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

Alex scoffed. “Since you can’t buy me this divorce.”

Alex walked back into the diner to be met with a tall blonde woman coming at him with a fierce look. 

“Where have you been?” she snapped. Alex wrinkled his brow. Did he know her?

“Oh heyyy babe,” Noah said from behind him. Alex stepped to the side to let him past. He watched Noah peck her quickly on the lips while she stared back at Alex quizzically.

“Who are _you_?” she asked bluntly.

Before Alex could answer, Noah butted in.

“Oh this is a visiting partner from a firm in New York,” he explained quickly. A little too quickly, in Alex’s opinion. “He has a – well, _had_ – a conference in Albuquerque, he’s just swinging on through on the drive. We met a while back – CLE stuff, pretty boring. Anyway, lunch? Honey, join us?”

The woman continued to look at him suspiciously.

“I’m Alex,” he offered his hand.

Warily, she held out her own. “Isobel.”

“Oh, right right. Alex, this is my wife. Isobel is our mutual friend’s brother.”

Isobel scrunched her nose. “You’re friends with Max?”

“The other brother,” Noah prompted with a genial grin.

“You’re friends with _Michael_?” she asked incredulously.

Alex looked at Noah, who was just staring back at him over Isobel’s shoulder with wide eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex improvised. “We met in college –” Noah shook his head frantically, mouthing _no no no_ as Isobel’s frown deepened. “– well, _I_ was in college –” Alex amended quickly. “And I was on a road trip…? And met him on the way… yes.” Noah was nodding at him furiously. “Yes, that’s how we met, he… fixed my truck.” Noah shot him a double thumbs up with a grin.

“C’mon honey, let’s get a booth!” Noah cut in, tugging on his wife’s elbow.

“Huh,” Isobel muttered, clearly not completely convinced by Alex’s poor lie but not interested enough to try to correct it. “Well, there you go.” Then turned on her heel and primly went to sit at the corner booth.

Noah grinned at him again once she was gone. “Good work!”

“Guerin is your brother-in-law?” Alex asked tensely.

“Well, yeah, he needed representation,” Noah reasoned.

“Can’t he hire someone?”

“Why would he need to when he has me?”

“Do you even practice divorce law?”

“Not specifically,” Noah hedged. Alex raised an eyebrow at him. “But you’d be surprised, in real estate law, the amount of divorce you _do_ have to deal with!”

Alex scoffed.

“C’mon,” Noah said, grabbing Alex by the shoulders and steering him towards the booth. “It also makes us brothers-in-law too!”

Alex didn’t have time to retort, _that hardly seems ethical,_ before he was plopped in a seat and handed a menu. Of course, he noticed Isobel eyeballing him over the rim of her water glass.

Like a good interrogator, she bided her time. After the diner owner, Arturo, had collected their orders with a kind smile, she rounded on him.

“So where are you from, Alex?”

Alex hated this question. “Oh, everywhere. Dad was in the Air Force. We moved a lot.”

Isobel’s eyes narrowed.

“Where’d you say you went to law school?”

“I didn’t,” Alex said coolly. He’d always excelled at lying, ever since he was a kid and he’d had to get good in that house. “I went to NYU.”

“And you went to a conference here in Albuquerque?”

“Right.”

“And you’re… driving back to New York?”

“Always wanted to see the country,” Alex shrugged.

“And you slept with my brother,” Isobel surmised.

Noah choked on his milkshake. Isobel held Alex’s gaze as she patted her husband on the back.

Despite himself, Alex felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “That obvious?”

“ _You met on the road and he fixed your truck?_ ” she repeated sarcastically, a grin stealing its way across her own face. “ _You just happen to be driving through town?_ Please, I know a booty call when I see one.”

Alex could laugh, “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Oh, I’m not,”

 _Then why the big bad secret from all the family?_ Alex wondered. “Would your parents have a problem with that?”

Isobel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why would they know? Oh, sorry, Michael doesn’t have parents.”

“Just Michael?”

“Sorry sorry, long story, the three of us were orphans, me and Max and Michael. Me and Max got adopted, Michael didn’t.”

It seemed like such a nonchalant way to say something that sounded terrible to Alex. Michael didn’t get adopted. When he didn’t respond, Isobel and Noah seemed to sense his confusion.

“He was in foster care, he was _fine_ ,” Noah reassured him around a mouthful of fries. “Look at him! Grew up just fine!”

The guy lived in a broken-down trailer on a trashed lot. He probably didn’t have running water based on the state of his clothes and a clear lack of regular showering. He got in bar fights at night and slept all day. Did he even work? He did not grow up fine.

Isobel continued to watch him carefully as Alex dipped a fry in his milkshake.

“He –” she started to say before a hand landed on her shoulder and she turned around.

Alex looked at the tall man standing behind her. In a wide cowboy hat and a Sheriff’s Deputy uniform, he looked serious and grim.

“Oh!” Isobel exclaimed. “Max!”

“Maximo!” Noah laughed. “Have a seat! We’re just talking about you and Michael!” Noah gestured for Max to take the seat next to Alex. “Alex,” Noah said, in a completely transparent clandestine way, “this is Isobel’s other brother.”

“Yeah, I gathered,” Alex answered dryly.

Max scoffed but moved around the table. Alex scooted over to make room.

“What did Michael do now?” Max asked, settling into his seat.

“Oh, nothing,” Noah answered, but Alex caught the way Isobel and Max exchanged a knowing look.

“Drunk tank again?” Isobel asked.

“Third time this week,” Max answered.

Alex thought of the manic way Michael’s eyes had lit up in the bar last night in that fight. He hadn’t been adopted, Alex thought. He didn’t know how those two things were related, but they were.

“Were just telling Alex here how Michael grew up just fine in foster care,” Noah said casually.

Both Isobel and Max paused.

“It was rough, for sure,” Max said.

 _Rough,_ Alex could guess what that meant. He knew rough well.

“I know he seems bad,” Isobel conceded. “But he’s always been there for us. Really been there. He could’ve left us behind, but he stayed.”

“Yeah,” Max said. “I thought for sure when he got that scholarship to UNM we’d be eating his dust. But some… tough stuff happened for our family. He stayed behind.” It seemed like a tough admission for Max to make.

“Scholarship to UNM?” Alex asked, despite himself.

“Oh yeah,” Noah butted in. “He’s like a gifted math genius. You should see his mechanics workshop!”

“He works at the Sanders automotive,” Isobel explained. “He still dabbles in mechanical engineering and physics and stuff. We always thought he’d make something great of himself. But he’s always put us, his family, first.”

Alex couldn’t reconcile that rough and tumble cowboy with the image of the family-oriented math nerd.

“He’s had a rough go,” Max said finally. “But he’s got a good heart.”

Alex thought about the papers in Noah’s briefcase. The ones he needed to be signed so badly.

Watching Max and Isobel look at each other with something akin to regret in their faces, Alex concluded it might be time to actually get to know the husband he was trying to divorce.

\--

Alex got the phone call as they were settling the bill.

“Hunter Jameson,” the screen flashed as it vibrated urgently across the tabletop. He snatched it up.

“I should take this,” he said. Max stood to let him out, and Alex slid out of the booth. The screen went dark as he swung his legs out hastily. He knew Hunter would be grumpy to miss him. He stood quickly, but the prosthetic slid out from under him on the linoleum. He found himself slamming down on the floor hard on his right hip. Fuck.

He looked up at the surprised and confused faces of Isobel, Max, and Noah watching him.

“So sorry, sir, are you alright?” Arturo rushed over as Alex righted himself and dusted himself off. “We’ve been mopping the floor, there was a spill in the other booth, so the floor is still wet. My apologies. Please, let me get your lunch.”

“I’m alright,” Alex assured him. “There’s no need.” Behind Arturo, the busboy holding the mop watched them nervously. “Really, I’m fine.” He looked down at his phone, still in his hand.

“I need to make a call,” he said. “It’s good to meet you, Isobel, Max.” He glanced at Noah quickly before making his way out of the diner and dialing Hunter’s number. Fuck, his hip was going to bruise.

He listened to the tinny ringing through his phone before Hunter picked up.

“Hey,” Hunter said. “Babe, for Greece, do you want to meet Celia on Santorini on the Wednesday instead of the Thursday? She’s thinking we could get a cabana.”

Fuck. Greece.

“Oh, uh, m-maybe?” Alex stuttered, leaning down to massage his leg. The desert air outside the diner whipped around him, blowing dust in his eye.

“Also, I think we should upgrade our suite in Mykonos. Unless you think they’ll comp us?”

“Uh,” Alex repeated, rubbing at his eye. “Maybe?”

“Ugh, oh god, my dad is calling. I gotta go tell him to fuck off. Bye,” Hunter abruptly hung up, leaving Alex with his phone to his ear, wincing as his eyes welled up under the dust onslaught.

Hunter had a terrible relationship with his father. And with his mother. And with his sister.

“Fuck family!” Hunter had toasted once, after his dad had tried to get him a job at the family business. At the time, thinking of his own father, Alex had laughed heartily. But, sometimes it gave him pause to think about the way that Hunter talked about the people that had always provided for him. He couldn’t know the inside dynamics of a family, but. The Jamesons had always kind faces.

A moment later, his phone buzzed with a text. It was the hotel suite options in Mykonos, from Hunter.

Greece.

That was right, Alex had a mission.

He glanced back at the diner, where Noah was still seated, one arm draped around Isobel.

Well, time to get the job done.

He drove back to the junkyard and veered towards the auto shop. Stepping out of the car, only wincing for a moment when he put weight on his right leg, he locked the doors and headed into the overhang of the mechanic shop.

At first, he didn’t see anyone around. The place was filled to the brim with parts and tools. He came up to a wide table, scattered with papers and notebooks. They were some kind of blueprints or schematics. Very technical, he could tell. Meticulous, messy as they were. It looked like some kind of a propeller, wings, wheels, body. A plane. Alex furrowed his brow as he flipped through the pages.

Suddenly there was a loud _CLANG_ behind him followed by sharp, “Ow, fuck.”

Alex couldn’t help himself from snickering at the steady stream of expletives coming from the far side of the large room. He rounded the corner of a tall shelf to see an open area, clearly a workshop, with some sort of vehicle in the middle, tools all around, and a man sitting in a chair with his back to him.

Alex knew those sandy curls.

“Drop the ball on something else?” he asked.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Guerin exclaimed when he startled sharply, almost falling out of his chair. “Warn a guy, will ya?” He said when he turned around to see Alex standing there.

Alex chuckled again then nodded to the strange metal pile in the middle. “What’s that?”

“That,” Guerin said. “Is none of your fucking business.”

“Oh but,” Alex said, batting his eyes mock-innocently. “What’s yours is mine.”

Guerin scoffed.

“Unless you want to make it _not_ mine?” Alex asked.

“You never give up, do you?” Guerin shook his head and turned back to cradling his foot.

Alex came around to look more closely. It was an old plane, but gutted out. The engine inside looked different. Questions flooded Alex’s mind. Why was Guerin trying to retrofit an old plane? What was he planning to do when he did?

“Where did you get this plane?” he settled on.

“It’s an old crop duster.”

“And you’re trying to fly it to Mars?”

Guerin actually laughed.

“It’s a pretty advanced propeller system,” Alex said. Now it was Guerin’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “What? I was in the Air Force, or did you forget?”

A long pause.

“I didn’t forget,” Guerin said seriously. Now they were talking about more than the Air Force.

Alex turned on the spot to meet Guerin’s eyes. “Odd way of showing it,” he said.

Guerin looked at him for a long moment with sad eyes. Alex just looked back. He didn’t feel sad. The truth was, he’d stopped wondering about that guy he’d married years ago. There may have been a time when he daydreamed about the boy’s eyes, his cheeks, his smile. He may have thought about his curly hair and crooked nose and broad and hands and thought, _maybe I’ll come home to him._ There had been a feeling in his chest of being _right_ when he thought that. Making a home. Cooking breakfast with that boy. A dog and a house and maybe even some kids someday? A stable life. A normal life. A safe life.

But he’d lost that dream on the side of the road in Iraq. He’d left it behind completely in a lonely hospital room when no one called. When he’d cried desperately, suspended by stitches and casts and gauze and scratchy hospital sheets, for someone, _anyone_. And no one came. No one called. Alex was alone.

He hadn’t had a husband in years. This visit was just a formality.

Alex and Guerin just looked at each other for a long time.

“I started building it,” Guerin said into the silence. “When I got the call. I didn’t know then that you’d put me on the paperwork. I didn’t realize…that you really thought...” Guerin trailed off.

Alex’s entire body felt tense and heavy. He didn’t know what to say.

 _I didn’t think it for long,_ he wanted to say. But, looking at the way Guerin’s shoulders sagged, he knew it would be cruel.

The man slumped in his chair, leaning forward heavily onto his elbows propped on his knees. He dropped his head. Alex could read the pain in the line of his neck, in the way his hands clasped.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out his hand, stepped toward him.

His right leg crumpled below him. He dropped heavily onto the cement floor.

“Augh!” he exclaimed when he came down onto his already-bruised hip, gritting his teeth as pain shot down his leg, tingling in toes that were no longer there. He grimaced.

“Alex!” Guerin leaped from his chair.

Alex was hoisting himself onto his elbows when he felt gentle hands cradle his shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“Guerin,” Alex said softly.

“It’s Michael, remember?” Michael chuckled fondly. “You said you loved that name, once.”

“Michael,” Alex breathed. “Not Mike.”

He’d told him that when they’d gotten married. “I take you, Michael – _not Mike_ – to be my lawfully wedded husband,” he’d said proudly, for all the Elvis impersonator and the drunk witnesses to hear. Then cracked up laughing so hard he’d almost fallen over.

“And I take you Alex, _not Alexander_ ,” Michael had responded, wheezing through his own laughter.

Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed so hard in his life as he had that night. It brought a smile to his face even now to think of it, six years later. He looked up from the floor, where Michael was still hovering over him, mirroring his smile.

Michael just looked at him knowingly, the corners of his eyes crinkled fondly.

“Here,” he said, reaching out a hand. “Your leg?”

Alex took it and came back to his feet. “Slipped earlier,” he said, leaning down roll is pant leg up over the top of the prosthesis. “Metal leg not as dextrous.” He took a look at everything, to make sure it hadn’t been damaged in the falls he’d taken today. Everything looked fine, though the socket was making him feel sore.

“I thought I’d lost you maybe,” Michael said. “And now, it turns out, I have.”

Alex didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Michael declared into the silence. “I… I tried to come. To see you. But I didn’t have any money, and your father told me that I shouldn’t.”

“My father?”

“I shouldn’t have listened,” Michael said. “It’s my fault.”

“What did he say?”

“That you didn’t need me, that you were better off. I don’t know, he convinced me it was my fault you got hurt. It was crazy. I really believed him. I thought, I don’t know. I thought if I contacted you or something, it’d be worse.”

Alex knew these words all too well. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly. “That I got hurt, or that you believed him. He does that. Manipulates people.”

Michael’s eyes were tight.

“It’s not your fault,” Alex reiterated. He found himself getting lost in Michael’s gaze, the two of them standing in the middle of the mechanic shop, with so much said and unsaid between them. It had been that gaze that convinced him to go to that cheesy all-night chapel with the Elvis impersonator in the first place.

There was a rustle from the entrance, the scuff of boots on dusty cement. Alex sprang backward before Max, the tall cop brother he’d met at the diner earlier rounded the corner.

“Oh, sorry,” Max said, clearly taken aback to see them there together.

“No, it’s – it’s fine. I was just leaving,” Alex said hastily, glancing back at Michael.

Michael was still looking at him intensely. Alex had to look away, as he made his way over to the door. Lest he might…. He didn’t know. Do something crazy. Stay. Tear up the documents. Get married again.

“Alex,” Michael called after him. “I just need more time.”

Alex bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. He nodded quickly, looking back at Michael but not long enough to change his mind. “Sure.”

He made it back out into the bright New Mexico sunshine, only limping slightly, when a voice called out again. Alex’s heart rose in his throat at the shouted, “Alex!”

He felt briefly hopeful, insanely hopeful. Maybe this could be something.

“Alex!” the voice shouted again. Alex turned, chest thumping.

It was Max chasing after him.

“Hey,” Max said. “My sister Isobel is throwing a little holiday party tomorrow night. You should come. You know, if you can.”

Alex had originally booked a flight for tomorrow morning. Back when he thought this would be open and shut. Back when Santorini and Mykonos and the trendiest clubs and being Mr. Jameson in the gossip columns had been the most important things to him. Just days ago, but also ages ago. He thought about Michael, who needed more time. He… wanted him to have that time.

He could stay here, and wait.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’ll be there.”

\--

Alex woke up the next day and first thought how nice it was not to be bombarded by the sounds of the city. He’d gotten this job in tech, which had the amazing benefit of being able to work remotely full-time. He’d loved that about it when he took it, but here was, a few years into it, having literally never left the city. Hunter would go off on exotic vacations, and Alex stayed. They were never the type of thing that interested him. He couldn’t imagine himself poolside in St Barts. Mostly he used the unlimited WFH option when they got insanely hungover.

But here he was, there was no honking, no yelling, no sirens. He could hear birds chirping, the wind blowing, the low hum of the freeway in the distance. He could hear quiet.

He rolled out of bed and stretched. He checked his emails, but nothing pressing. He decided he’d go for a walk down to the diner for a coffee. It wasn’t that far, and he’d done enough work on some at-home PT that his leg was in much better shape.

He entered the diner to a small commotion.

“There he is!” Arturo cried, pointing at Alex. “Kyle, go! Help him!”

“Uh?” Alex said when a guy in a doctor’s jacket and scrubs was pushed forward towards him.

“Hi,” the guy smiled charmingly. “I’m Kyle. Uh, Arturo told me you took a bit of spill yesterday, and I guess he feels terrible, and he wants me to take a look unless you’ve had someone look at it already?

“No, I think I’m fine,” Alex said. 

“Really? This is a small town, there’s a lot of talk. You fell here, Max saw you at the mechanic’s shop yesterday, you were limping, they’re worried,” Kyle smiled genially. “They all mean well, I swear. That and they put it together with Noah that you’re a vet. Arturo has been distraught.”

Alex looked over Kyle’s shoulder at Arturo who was smiling at them kindly, if nervously.

“No worries,” Alex said. “I’m fine, he can treat me to a coffee and we’re square.”

“Coffee and my best churro pancakes! Take a seat!” Arturo called, already rushing to the kitchen.

Kyle gestured to the nearest table, then took a seat himself.

“So, _very_ small town, huh?” Alex smirked.

“Yeah,” Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. “It seems crazy, but it’s great. I left for a while, for medical school. But… I don’t know,” Kyle shrugged. “It’s nice to be in a place that cares about you, ya know? Plus it’s so beautiful.”

Alex looked out the window at the desert. It looked far from the empty wasteland it had seemed to him just two days ago.

“Where do you live now?” Kyle asked him.

“I live in New York, in Manhattan,” Alex responded.

Kyle’s eyebrows shot up, “What brings you here from the Big Apple?”

“I was at a conference,” Alex remembered his lie to Isobel. “Just passing through, but I think maybe I’ll stay for a little while.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you staying?”

“The motel down the road.”

Kyle nodded understandingly. “Hey, depending on how long you’re here, I have a family cabin just outside of town but not too far. Might be a better place to stay than that shithole, yeah? Don’t tell Stan I said that though.”

“Oh, uh, maybe,” Alex said. He couldn’t possibly stay. He had a bunch of reasons to go back to New York, right? He knew he was being completely irrational. But, so many irrational things had let him to something great.

“Here,” Kyle said and pulled out his phone. “I’ve been trying to sell it, honestly. It’s a great cabin. May need some work.”

Alex was fully prepared to turn the phone away until he got a glimpse of the first photo. It looked charming, a little bit like a fairytale. Kyle, instantly seeing Alex’s interest, proceeded to take him on an entire virtual tour of the home through photos. Alex had gone through two heaping cups of coffee and a giant stack of pancakes before Kyle was done convincing him it was a great home and Alex should buy it.

“I love the house,” Kyle told him as they paid the bill. “I would stay there myself, but honestly it brings back all these memories of my father. Not that it’s haunted!” he saved quickly. “Just an emotional place for me.”

That was how Alex found himself stepping out into the New Mexico desert with a new place to stay – _just for a few days,_ he’d told Kyle firmly – and new eyes on the place, as if it might be home.

\--

Alex walked into Isobel’s holiday party that night only half an hour late to be met with cheers as if he was the eagerly-awaited guest of honor.

“Alex,” Isobel said charmingly, clearly the hostess in charge. “Thank you for coming. You know my husband Noah,” she gestured to Noah as if he wasn’t the one that had introduced them in the first place. 

Alex smiled and shook Noah’s hand. Noah winked conspiratorially and pulled Alex closer to whisper. “I heard Guerin is bringing something for you tonight. Maybe you’ll finally get what you asked for this Christmas.”

Alex felt his heart plummet. Guerin was bringing the divorce papers for him. It was over.

Alex walked through the next hour in a daze. Just as soon as it had started, his experience here in Roswell would be over. He’d be back to that suffocatingly-sterile apartment in Gramercy, with all the bustle and anxiety of the city, with Hunter.

As if on cue, his phone rang. Hunter.

“Hi,” Alex ducked into an alcove to take the call.

“I can’t believe you aren’t back yet,” Hunter started immediately. “You _know_ I can’t survive these work events without you shoving pills down my throat.”

Alex wanted to chuckle, but it didn’t feel right.

“You need to get back here,” Hunter said. Alex listened to him launch into an entire diatribe about the most recent drama amongst his friends, his family wreaking havoc on his sanity, the stress at work, when he caught sight of a familiar head of hair across the room.

“I gotta go, Hunter,” he said quickly before he cut the call.

He ducked in between the cheerful party-goers, already getting sloshed on Isobel’s particularly potent cocktails, until he reached Michael’s back. The man had made his way behind the bar and was hunched over something on the table in front of him that Alex couldn’t see.

 _Oh god,_ Alex thought desperately. _Please don’t let him be signing the divorce papers._

And – wait. He didn’t want Michael to be signing the divorce papers?

“Michael!” Isobel’s voice burst in before Alex could interrupt Michael himself.

Michael sprung up from where he was hunched over, and turned around quickly. “Isobel! And – oh. Alex. Hi.”

“Hi,” Alex said back, a little awkwardly. They looked at each other for a long moment.

“We’re good here, Isobel,” Michael said sharply, shooting her a look.

“Alright, alright,” she rolled her eyes and waved her hand as she walked away. “Have fun, boys.”

That was Alex found himself standing in the middle of a crowded room looking at his husband, hoping he wouldn’t divorce him after all.

“So –” he started.

“I –” Michael said at the same time.

“Oh, you first,” Alex said quickly.

“I, here,” Michael turned around and grabbed a piece of paper from behind him. He held it out to Alex, who felt his heart turn tight. Oh no. Here it was. Only.

“What is that?” Alex reached out a shaking hand to take it. It didn’t look anything like he expected. It… wasn’t what he expected. It looked like a drawing?

“It’s a schematic,” Michael supplied. “I…saw your prosthetic. I had some ideas, to stabilize it. You don’t have to use it, you can take it to your prosthetist.”

Alex looked over the paper, at all the notes and scribbles Michael had made, at the sketch which Alex thought looked incredible.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Michael had clearly worked on this for hours, just since seeing him yesterday. He must have been up all night.

“I can sign those papers,” Michael said. “You don’t deserve to be here shooting the shit, waiting for me.”

“I’m not,” Alex said quickly.

“You’re not?”

“I’ve waited this long…” Alex trailed off.

“I’ve been waiting for years to see you again,” Michael admitted. It felt like a missing piece fitting in place in Alex’s chest. Michael had been waiting for him. And, Alex realized, maybe he’d been waiting for Michael all along too.

Alex’s phone, which had been vibrating insistently in his pocket, started to ring again with a vengeance.

“Here, just sec,” Alex said, suddenly calm. “Hi Hunter, I’m not coming back to New York.”

Michael looked at him, completely shocked.

“I’m staying here in Roswell with my husband.”


End file.
